A Question Feared of Answering
by Assassin of the Shadows
Summary: ...A question I was supposed to just brush off the next day, but I no longer can. This question haunts me in my dreams, and I’ve yet to answer the question’s owner because I’m afraid they will not remember it.


**Title:** A Question Feared of Answering (or: Ugly)  
**Author:** Assassin of the Shadows (AOTS)  
**Rating:** T - Teen (because I like T's)  
**Pairings:** Don't want to spoil it, but you might not understand... SetoxJounouchi (HINTS!)  
**Summary:** ...A question I was supposed to just brush off the next day, but I no longer can. This question haunts me in my dreams, and I've yet to answer the question's owner because I'm afraid they will not remember it.  
**Word Count:** 1 328  
**Pages:** 4  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yugioh, the characters within, nor the merchandice shares, I am merely borrowing characters for personal and public enjoyment (This should be obvious by now...)  
**Warnings:** Angst, frustrating hints at love, self-pity, low self-esteem, violence, and odd choice ofwording and structure.

**A Question Feared of Answering**

_It doesn't matter who's watching what I do. They can measure the distance, time the swiftness- but truthfully it all depends on my view, doesn't it? To me, pain either comes so quick I can't keep up, or so slow that I know exactly what's going to happen._

The fists fly at speeds both turtle and rabbit. He dodges the turtles and strikes them down; but no matter how much he hits, no matter how much he defends, there is always a rabbit ready and waiting to protect and take a turtles place.

The sounds of flesh striking flesh, the cruel sneakiness of sharp metal hiding between tightly pressed fingers; all plays a part in a disgusting game he can no longer escape.

When I was little, before they took her away, I was told I could be something special if I tried hard enough…

Harsh yells, and loud insults all directed towards him, but he can't ignore the encouragement they give to one another. To dodge their blows, to overcome their low tricks, is easier than becoming deaf to their screams of companionship. Hearing them help each other sometimes makes him feel…

_I'm still wondering to myself, if maybe this person, who had such a strong back and cool height, was lying to me. That perhaps this person, I once looked up to, lied to me for my early years._

_But then I start to question myself…_

The rabbits are tiring and the turtles continue to struggle to rise again. For some reason this fight, is one they cannot leave at a loss. Tired and sore, even the turtles join in tricks. No longer hiding their self-stained honor they, the turtles and rabbits, grab whatever is handy. Yet he doesn't flinch.

With eyes so cold and distant, like the eyes of the dead he watches them destroy their inner selves. To go home with a win they will surely kill him. So naturally, for he is a parasite, is he not? He should kill them first?

With numbed hands he grabs the wrist holding another shiny something, made sharp to kill. There is his blood drying on this blade, surely this one wanted to taste it? So he guides the sharp, by the wrist, towards the mouth that now seems so eager to take it in

_Perhaps this person had never lied to me. It is suddenly becoming clear, that perhaps I was the one who had not bothered to try._

He is once again alone, in this parking lot he had so innocently been passing threw, the rabbits and turtles have fled, shrieking and constantly looking back, always wondering if maybe he would chase after them.

He was alone with one turtle lying on the pavement. His shell removed and his neck at a curious angle. The sharp is still stuck in his mouth, he thinks to himself if maybe he should take it out. But he stops himself in time, this turtle wanted the sharp, he should let him keep it. After all, he's been so good and quiet.

_So this now makes it my fault right? I am no longer special, for I had never bothered making an effort to make myself special…_

He walks away with a light head and dead eyes. Returning to his pace of carelessness to continue on with his destination. The bright lights from the windows, and the shadows dancing on the sidewalk below make him hesitate. Should he go in? Should he go into a building full of special people with dreams, hopes, wishes and goals?

_They surround me with a white light. To everyone else it could melt ice and burn. So why is it so cold around me? To stand by them, bathed in white light, it freezes me inside._

_Clawing through my body like something possessed, it tears away at my heart, and pulls several important things in my mind. _

_How can such a magnificent light be so cold?_

He stands in front of one of the many windows and mulls over his two options. To go inside, or to not, he does this because he already knows the answer.

_Because it's not mine._

He turns to leave but catches the eyes that have been watching him stand there the entire time. Those three sets of eyes, the owners who know him for what he is.

_Why do they look at me in that way? Each with a different message but all with the same meaning. One understands, one wants to help, and one seems to do both, but wants to rub it in my face all at the same time._

_Look at me, the dog who hides in your shadow, the one who fights battles you should never have to fight. The one who does all this for you, just to stay in your icy cold light for just another day._

His lips quirk up in an indifferent grin, his eyes still cold, dead, but glowing with knowledge. He knows what they're thinking. He knows that they want to go to him.

_Take a good look…_

He flicks his gaze over to guilty eyes and then walks away from the shop that could warm up his soul… and from the person who constantly blocks his way.

_See how I can walk away too?_

His feet drag his spasming body up rusted metal stairs. How did he get here so quickly? Was it quick? The red light peeking through the plastic covered window tells him no, and he hurries up the steps with a more determined stomp.

_How come I keep thinking such depressing thoughts? Why do they always follow back to this light that I try to possess? Is it now becoming so impossible for me?_

The door opens but not before letting the whole floor know, he pauses before finally shuffling in. sliding off sneakers he once prized a year ago and drops a bag he never even knew he had.

_Is it because of that one question? How can it be because of that, from such a long time ago… yet it eats at me, I know it._

The reflection from the hall mirror reminds him his clothing is now torn and bloody, and he begins peeling it off his skin.

_A question I was supposed to just brush off the next day, but I no longer can. This question haunts me in my dreams, and I've yet to answer the question's owner because I'm afraid they will not remember it._

A belt hits the floor that needs washing and worn-thin jeans slide to pool at bare feet. The sink in front of him is cracked and dirty, yet he curls his hands around the rim and grips with pain. Cuts lining his back like whip marks bleed slowly, like little rivers. Scars faded and old litter his whole body, so many they all seem to connect.

Bruises of many colors on his arms and legs, many on his chest and the small of his back. His long hair brushes against one of the several cigarette burns on his upper chest and neck.

_This question that haunts me… that was said so smug and cold…_

He kicks the jeans away from him and hunches over the small sink, his muscular, and greatly abused back heaving with his deep pained breaths.

_"What do you see when you look at yourself?"_

A tenseness in his back and his head slowly rises. Amber eyes search at the reflection of a boy who's seen too many bad things in his life. Frantically searching for something. A dim something that only his heart can see, a something so small it's shocking it has not been extinguished. This soul's inner light…

_I see…_

His body shakes and tears well in his eyes, quickly filling and seeping out the corners. He lowers his head and cries. Sobs jolt his body and extreme sorrow echoes throughout the small room.

_Ugliness._

* * *

Kimajime: Holy Shit! O.O Angst much?

Eh heh, it was just constantly bothering me... In the Yugioh manga where Seto asks everyone "What do you see when you look at yourself?" it was kind of funny how in Duelist Kingdom, Anzu turned that very same question back at him... but yeah. That question! Has anyone seen the casts FACES when you read that, or if you've watched the anime! When Anzu turns the question back at Seto, is it just me, or does Jounouchi look _sad_? Especially in the manga.

And that scene just _would not_ leave me alone, and so I began sketching, and half way through like three pages I realized I was starting a mini comic (and I hate it when I do it for Yugioh because no one ever wants to see them) so I stopped and continued on as a fanfic. So there's the reason why it looks weird.

Oh, and to answer another question: I've been taking all my handrawn comics and retyping them up as fanfics, because I liked them. And I kinda liked the style too, I know it's kind of weird to read but I **love** manga, so actually getting to write this in a manga-ish way was both awkward, complicating andfun.

I hope you enjoyed reading, and please leave a review for me before leaving!


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